


the worst is the not knowing

by froggydarren



Category: Teen Wolf (TV) RPF
Genre: Angst, Dylan's accident is at the centre of this fic, Hospitalization, M/M, blood mentions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-08
Updated: 2016-11-08
Packaged: 2018-08-29 21:10:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8505493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/froggydarren/pseuds/froggydarren
Summary: Tyler doesn't go on Twitter to check on the news. He sees the trends by accident, spots the hashtag immediately, and clicks on it out of curiosity. When he sees it's about his Dylan, it's like a punch in the gut, and there's only one thing he can think of doing. Even though he's on the other side of the country.





	

**Author's Note:**

> So obviously this isn't what happened when Dylan got injured. However, this is _fiction_ , and maybe in a universe that isn't our reality, it's exactly what did.

He’s only on Twitter to post that one silly picture. Still giddy from the latest interview -- man, he loves these guys and the promo tour is the most fun he’s had since… well, he’s not going to think about it, because of so many reasons -- he clicks on the trends almost by accident. 

_ Dylan _ . 

It’s the one on top of the list, and just about every cell in his body freezes. A myriad of scenarios runs through his mind, panic rushing through as he reminds himself to breathe because it’s not it, it can’t be anything of what he just thought. He almost misses how much his hands are shaking when he taps on the trend and the tweets start pouring in. It’s only when he can’t read the words because of the tremors that he has to put the back of his hand on his knee, just to stop the shaking. 

There it is, then, the full name, the words “accident” and “hospital” and “severe”. He tells himself not to panic or freak out, but when Ryan’s hand lands on his shoulder, Tyler almost jumps out of his skin.

“You okay there? We have to head out now,” Ryan says, his eyes politely looking away from the screen of Tyler’s phone.

“Dylan’s hurt,” falls from Tyler’s lips, and he feels Ryan’s hand tense where it’s still on his shoulder.

“Shit, man, I’m sorry. Have you…?”

“I just saw,” Tyler takes a breath, his lungs hurting as he does it. “I was on Twitter, and…”

“Okay, breathe man,” Ryan says, plucking the phone out of Tyler’s grip. “Who would know? Who am I looking up?” 

Tyler’s grateful, so fucking grateful for the friendships that came out of this movie, because Blake is there only moments later, and Will follows, pulling out his own phone. 

“I’m getting Mel to call Grant, okay?” Blake says without even bothering to ask, phone already dialling the number of the closest connection he can think of. 

Ryan hands Tyler his phone back after a call to Posey -- who knows nothing, and Tyler hears Ryan apologising because that was how Posey found out -- and uses his own phone to call Tyler’s agent. She’s already booking Tyler’s flight and Ryan’s coming up with excuses for Tyler’s absence from the promo to her. Not knowing what else to do -- he tries Dylan’s Mom but gets voicemail, which makes him assume she’s either in the hospital or on a flight up there -- he pulls up Twitter again. Ian’s tweet pops up, and Tyler dials him, but gets nothing but the same info he’s already known. 

“Come on, your flight’s booked, we’ll get you a car to the airport,” Ryan tells him when Tyler hangs up. “Do you need one of us to tag along?”

It takes a moment for the words to register, and then Tyler finally stands up and hugs Ryan, muttering thanks as he’s finally letting himself breathe. He still doesn’t know anything, but hearing that he’s going to, hopefully, find out soon, he has something to focus on. 

“No, I’ll… I’ll be fine. Fuck,” he blurts when he finally lets go, feeling the pats on his shoulders from Blake and Will. “I just need to…”

“Get there, yeah,” Ryan finishes for him. “Come on, let’s get you going.”

Tyler isn’t sure if they’re just generally supportive, or if he’s been talking about Dylan so much that all of them just  _ know _ , but he’s not questioning it. When his hands are still shaking by the time the cab pulls up, Ryan jumps in with Tyler, and makes some more calls on the way to the airport. The ticket is at the airline desk, along with a note that his bags will follow -- and  _ shit _ , Tyler thinks and tries to ramble about how he hasn’t packed, about his hotel room being a mess, until Ryan nudges him towards security and tells him not to worry about it -- and details for his hotel in Vancouver. Tyler rolls his eyes at that one, because it’s not like he’s planning on going anywhere but the hospital once he’s in the city, but he doesn’t comment. 

“I’m baking you five cakes when we’re home,” Ryan says into the last hug before Tyler goes through security. 

They both chuckle, but it’s quiet, shaky, and Tyler hugs tighter again. 

“Thank you,” he says. 

“Go, get to him,” Ryan says with a fond smile. “Let us know, okay? And if I hear anything, I’ll call.”

They both nod, and Tyler walks off, only reluctantly dropping his phone into the tray when he walks through the metal detectors, grabbing it like a lifeline when he and the phone pass through. He almost forgets his wallet, smiles when the staff reminds him, and the rush through the airport is a complete blur after than. There’s coffee at some point, frantic searching for his flight, and a new charger when his phone starts dying. He’s on twitter and news sites when he’s not texting anyone who’s awake -- Ian still knows nothing, Colton hadn’t even heard, Posey’s getting in touch with some friends up in Vancouver. Blake calls back saying that Grant didn’t know details either, though he heard about an accident, but that he’ll keep checking. 

Tyler braces himself for one of the longest flights in his life -- fuck, he flew across oceans and it didn’t seem as bad -- when a new story pops up, slightly less terrifying than the ones he saw so far. There are still no details, and the repeated comment on the shut down production doesn’t help his panic, but it seems a little less horrible than the earlier ones. 

There’s no Wifi on board, he’s in economy -- the  _ least _ of his worries right then -- and he has layovers where he can barely make it to his connecting flights. It feels like an eternity has passed by the time he’s turning his phone on in Vancouver, roaming rates be damned, and it buzzes with texts and missed call notifications. 

He’s already looking for a cab when he spots “O’Brien” on the list of missed calls, so he stops and takes a breath before hitting dial. 

“He’ll be okay,” Lisa tells him before Tyler can even say hello. 

“Okay,” he breathes out, air rushing out of him along with the tension that was holding him up. 

He leans against the nearest wall and listens as she tells him where they are, and that Dylan’s out of surgery. She tells him that they only just got there too, barely an hour earlier, and she doesn’t know everything yet. 

“Where are you?” Tyler asks. 

When he has the name of the hospital, he tells her he’s on the way, and his feet move towards the cabs without him thinking about it. The city is full of traffic, so Tyler checks twitter again, seeing news that support Lisa’s reassurance that Dylan would be okay, but while it feels better, it’s not enough. He needs to be there, needs to see, and the news reports are still making him think a million things, scenarios worse than he can handle. 

The hospital is less busy than the streets, and to Tyler’s surprise, Lisa is at the nurses’ station when he walks in. She pulls him into a hug without any questions, and Tyler slumps against her a little, his eyes watering as he lets go of the tension that’s been holding him together. 

“Come on, we’ll get you in to see him, okay?” 

She’s talking to him on the way up, but Tyler isn’t listening, just following her like a lost duckling, the noises and smells of the hospital overwhelming. He’d spent time in them as a kid, more again with baseball injuries later on, and he still despises it. It’s somehow worse now, when he’s not the patient and he can’t dismiss the urgency of being there. 

“Sit down,” Lisa tells him when they get to a floor that looks almost generic, only for the feeling of more urgency in the nurses’ and doctors’ movements. “I’ll see if he’s awake.” 

Tyler falls -- there’s no other word for it really -- into a plastic chair and his head bangs against the wall behind him. His phone is buzzing in his hand, but he ignores it, ignores everything but the strangely soothing beeping that’s all around the place, coming from multiple rooms at once. 

When Lisa comes back, he’s almost breathing normally again, and he lets her lead him towards a room at the end of a corridor, quieter and with less staff around. He hesitates before walking in, but her hand is on his shoulder and the contact grounds him just enough. 

At first, all he can see is the red seeping through the gauze and fluid dripping down the IV, can hear the beeping of the monitors and the buzz of the machines around the place. Again, it takes a squeeze of Lisa’s hand on Tyler’s shoulder and her muttering that she’ll be back in a little bit for Tyler to snap back out of his panic. 

“Hey,” he whispers when he steps closer to the bed, keeping his eyes on the pale skin  _ not _ covered in bandages though still scratched and bruised. 

“What the fuck?” Dylan asks when he turns to see Tyler. “Thought you were in Florida.”

It’s the sound of Dylan’s voice that almost makes Tyler’s knees buckle -- it’s scratchy, sluggish, barely above a whisper. He manages to pull a chair closer, and sits down, reaching out for Dylan’s hand -- covered in yet more bandages -- without saying anything.

“Did you  _ fly in _ ?” Dylan asks when Tyler doesn’t say anything. “Are you… nuts?”

“You got hurt,” Tyler finally replies, like it explains everything.

And it does. Nothing else mattered when he saw the news, his whole world blurred out in that moment, everything but Dylan unimportant. 

“You’re an idiot,” Dylan whispers, but Tyler can see the fondness in his eye even as it’s blinking to stay open, sees the curl of the corner of Dylan’s mouth. 

“Your idiot though,” he says, stroking his thumb over the skin on Dylan’s hand. 

“I’m gonna sleep now,” Dylan mumbles, his eye already closing as he’s slurring the words. “‘m glad you’re here.”

“Where else would I be?” Tyler whispers, his own heart matching the rhythm he can hear from Dylan’s monitor. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

“‘s just the face,” Dylan manages to slur. “No big loss.”

“Idiot, I happen to like the face,” Tyler tells him, comforted even more by the lightness of Dylan’s words and the humour in them. 

“You both are idiots,” Lisa says from behind Tyler’s back, making them both startle a little. “You,” she points to her son, her gaze stern but concerned, “are going to sleep, and I’m going to get this one to eat something. We’ll be back when you wake up, honey.” 

Tyler watches as she bends over the bed and kisses Dylan’s cheek, then he lets her tug on his free hand. He follows her out of the room, but stops just outside the door, letting himself fall against the wall. 

“Hey, hey, he’s fine,” Lisa whispers when Tyler doesn’t move, and his breathing stutters. “He’ll be okay.”

“Yeah, okay,” Tyler says, trying to get himself under control. 

Several beats later, she’s still watching him and throwing glances towards the nurses down the corridor, like she’s calculating if he needs someone to give him something to calm down. But Tyler’s breathing slowly, more steadily as the day’s events process in his brain. 

“You’re too calm,” he blurts out when he regains the ability to speak.

“I’ve had my moments, when you were in with him, and when I was waiting for you to get here,” she says, a smile fonder than Tyler’s ever seen directed at himself making her face light up. “I might have another one later on, but he’s  _ fine _ now. He’ll probably look better after this anyway,” she says. 

Tyler chuckles, recognising the humour instantly, and the familiarity is the last bit of comfort that he needs.  _ He’ll be okay _ , he repeats to himself, and then he finally manages a genuine smile. 

“Come on, he’ll whine about letting you starve if I don’t feed you,” she says, hooks her arm through Tyler’s, and he lets her lead him away from the room. “Now, tell me about Miami.” 

The weight of not knowing finally off Tyler’s shoulders, he throws another glance at the door to Dylan’s room, breathes out, and launches into a rambled recount of his day. As he talks about the moment he found out about Dylan, about his friends’ help, he thinks that maybe he panicked and jumped on the plane too soon. 

“I’d do it again, though,” he tells Lisa over a cup of coffee. “I just needed to be here.”

It’s the way she smiles at him that tells him she already knew.

**Author's Note:**

> [my tumblr](http://froggydarren.tumblr.com/)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Не знать – хуже](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13504884) by [Magdalena_sylar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magdalena_sylar/pseuds/Magdalena_sylar), [WTF_Tyler_Hoechlin_2018](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WTF_Tyler_Hoechlin_2018/pseuds/WTF_Tyler_Hoechlin_2018)




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